Summary: A few months after your conversation in the cemetery, you run into the broken man again.
Word Count: 1336
Warnings: None
A/N: I just couldn’t leave it like that. I actually had most of this part written on that same day that I posted Preserved in Pigment all those months ago, but I’d forgotten about it until today. After I finished writing Preserved in Pigment, I needed to know that Sam was going to be okay. I needed that closure. But I think I forgot about it until now because I needed it even more this week.
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"And then we snuck backstage and—"
"She snuck backstage," you quickly corrected Vanessa's tale, not wanting any credit for the illegal events that took place last weekend. You should have known that Vanessa would tell this story at your weekly girls' lunch. "I just followed to make sure she didn't get into trouble."
"It was your idea!"
"You know that I always joke about sneaking backstage at concerts. I never actually mean that we should do it."
Lily piped in, fortunately on your side. "Totally. It's, like, what you do at concerts. Everyone has those dreams about meeting the band. But most people know that it's not something that actually is plausible."
"And I made that happen for you," Vanessa bowed as much as she could in her chair. "You're welcome."
You'd never admit it to Vanessa's face (she had way too big of a head already) but she was right. It was because she snuck backstage that you had one of the most memorable nights of your life. "At least the band was gracious about it and didn't kick us out. They were actually really cool and invited us to have a few drinks with them."
"You got drunk with Slightly Embroidered?"
Vanessa leaned over to Lily and stage-whispered, "Y/N totally made out with Alex Fischel."
"I did not!"
"Oh, honey. I saw tongue."
"I—" Your jaw worked for a few seconds while no sound came out before you finally gave up and pouted. "It was totally G-rated."
Wrinkling her nose, Vanessa tilted her head. "Let's be honest here, and agree it was at least PG-13."
"Whatever, V. I'm noticing that you're not telling anyone what you did when you snuck away with the lead singer from the pre-show band." Lips pursed and a challenging glint in your eye, you didn't let her get away so easily.
But Vanessa had absolutely no sense of shame. She just grinned. "She was hot. I'm hot. Do you want more details?"
"Ugh, please no. I've heard more about your sex life than I've heard about anyone else's." Lily waved her hand and downed the last of her margarita. "When you nail Scarlett Johansson, then you can tell me all about it. But until then, I'm cool if you keep some secrets."
"Y/N?" A familiar voice called from behind you, and you turned to see who it was. The halo of sunlight behind him made it difficult to focus on his face, but slowly your eyes adjusted. "It is you. I wasn't sure."
"Oh, hi! Yeah, we met at the cemetery." You ran through the heavy conversation you'd had with this man, but couldn't put a name to his face. "I don't think I ever got your name."
"Sam. It's Sam. I'm sure I'm interrupting lunch," he motioned at your friends at the table, who were watching this encounter with very interested eyes. "But I promised myself that if I ever saw you again, I would thank you."
He looked so much better than he had a few months ago. He stood straighter and didn't have as many worry lines on his face. It filled you with so much relief to know that he wasn't suffering as badly as he had been the last time you'd seen him.
"Yeah, um." You turned back to your friends briefly as you stood up. "I'll be right back, guys."
"Take your time, honey," Vanessa drawled, not even bothering to hide the way her eyes were devouring Sam. "Take your time."
After grabbing your purse—you'd learned long ago to never leave your phone unattended anywhere near your friends—you led Sam down the street towards a park bench.
"So how are you doing?" You asked, sincerely wanting to know. In the few months since your brief encounter, you'd found your mind wandering to the stranger at the cemetery quite often.
"Really good, actually. Thanks to you." The grateful gleam in his eyes touched your heart. "Our conversation gave me the push I needed to move on from the depression stage of grief and into acceptance."
"It's—" You cut yourself off before you could finish that statement. It's nothing, was your first response, but it was the wrong one. It wasn't nothing. You'd changed this man's life. "I'm glad I could give you that push."
"Yeah, actually," Sam rubbed at the back of his neck and looked away for a moment. "Uh, I've never had the best relationship with my family. I kinda cut off all ties when I left for college. But after what you said about feeling alone and hiding under the covers... I just couldn't get it out of my head. Especially because I saw that painting you gave me every day. It was like Jess was yelling at me to get my head out of my ass," he laughed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So I did. I called my brother and it's been good." By the small smile playing at his lips, you knew that he wasn't lying for your benefit. "So thank you for that."
"You're welcome, Sam. I'm glad you interrupted my lunch. I've been wondering how you've been."
"Really?"
Why was that such a big surprise? "We cried together in a cemetery. Of course I've wondered about you."
He laughed softly. "I guess that does create a bit of a weird bond."
"And I, well, what I shared with you was so personal to me. I've only told my parents and Hayden's parents what he told me that day." Your heart constricted at the reminder, but it wasn't the heart-wrenching grief that had filled you for so long. "So of course I've wondered about the stranger at a cemetery that made me feel comfortable enough to share one of my most private memories."
"I—I didn't realize. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," you hurried to reassure him, not realizing that you'd reached out and laid your hand on his arm. "It helped you. That's what Hayden would have wanted. It's a better way to honor his memory than keeping it to myself."
"Like the painting?"
"Like the painting," you agreed. "You're taking good care of it, right?"
Sam nodded, locks of long brown hair falling into his eyes. "I framed it and hung it in my living room. Whenever anyone asks me who painted it, I just tell them that a beautiful angel gave it to me at the cemetery."
The unexpected compliment flooded your cheeks with blush and you bit back a smile. "Glad to know I gave it to a good home."
Now Sam turned to face you more fully and took both of your hands in his. The air between you shifted into something heavier and deeper. Sam's hazel eyes drilled into yours with a depth and sincerity that you weren't used to. "Y/N, I really, really want you to know just how thankful I am for what you did for me that day. You don't know me, but somehow you knew exactly what to say to me. If there's ever anything I can do for you, please let me know."
It was as if someone was sitting behind you, giving you a push. "Actually... if you wanted to, you could take me out to dinner this weekend." There was a flicker of surprise across Sam's eyes and you rushed to clarify. "That is, if you're ready. I don't want to push you into something you're not ready for. I know it's only been a year, but—"
"Friday at six?" Sam interrupted your rambling.
There was a beat of silence while you second guessed yourself. Making out with someone you would never see again and going on a date with someone that you obviously had a connection with were two completely separate things. You hadn’t gone out with anyone since Hayden died. What if you weren’t ready?
But then there was a whisper on the wind that nudged you forward.
